Her Sweet Surrender. Nina Harrington
Spanish musician had even brought along a classical guitar and Amber had kicked off the flamenco dancing with great gusto and much cheering. It was amazing that the glass wear had survived the evening.
He had taken hundreds of photographs in every public room, with and without guests, from every possible angle. But there was no doubt who was the star of the show.
Sam could only watch in awe as Amber laughed and chatted in several languages to men and women of all ages and dress styles. Some young and unkempt, some older and the height of elegance, but it did not seem to matter to her in the least. The fashion models and media people were introduced to classical artists and quite a few popular musicians with names that even he had heard of.
Everyone from the costume designers to hairdressers and international conductors were putty in Amber’s fingers. He had never expected to hear a sing-song around the grand piano where four of the world’s leading sopranos improvised a rap song with an up-and-coming hip hop star.
It took skill to make a person feel that they were the most important person in the room—and Amber had that skill in buckets.
He was in awe of her.
It was only now, as Saskia and Kate chatted away to old friends and lingering guests, that he realised that Amber had already slipped away into the kitchen before he had a chance to thank her and say goodnight.
He quickly scanned the kitchen for Amber and waved to the waiting staff that Saskia had set to work on the washing-up. He had just turned away when he saw a splash of blue on the patio and slowly strolled out of the hot kitchen into the cool of the late May evening.
Amber was sitting on the wooden bench on the patio, humming along to the lively Austrian waltzes being played on the music system in the conservatory only a few feet away.
Her eyes were closed tight shut and her left hand was twisting and moving as though it was dancing in the air, her right arm waving stiffly along in time, the plaster cast forgotten.
Her face was in shadow but there was no mistaking the expression of joy which seemed to shine from inside outwards, illuminating her skin and making it glow.
She was happy. Beautiful. And content. And he yearned to be part of that happiness and share that little window of joy with this amazing woman.
This was the Amber he had fallen in love with ten years ago and then fallen in love all over again in the first ten seconds when she’d walked into his dad’s garage and knocked his world off its axis.
And the fact that he had been in denial until this moment was so mind-boggling that all he could do was stand there and watch as she sang along to the music, all alone in the light of the full moon and the soft glow streaming out from the conservatory where the last guests were mingling in the hallway.
He stood in the shadows, watching her for minutes until the music changed to a new track and she dropped her hands onto her lap and clasped hold of her knees and blinked open her eyes.
And saw him.
‘Hi, Sam,’ she said, and her eyes met his without hesitation or reluctance. Almost as if she was pleased to see him there. ‘Are we on our own?’
Sam swallowed down the lump in his throat and strolled over to the bench in the soft light and lifted up her feet and sat down, her legs on his knees, well aware that he probably had a huge man crush grin all over his face.
‘More or less. The girls are seeing the last of the guests out. It was a great party. Did you have a good time?’
Amber sighed and snuggled sideways on the arm rest. ‘The best. Even though I am now completely exhausted. How about you?’
Sam half turned to face her and as she shuffled higher, her legs resting on his thighs and her arm on her lap, he inhaled a wonderful spicy, sweet perfume that competed with the full musk roses and lavender which Saskia had planted behind the bench. It was a heady, exotic aroma that seemed to fill his senses and make him want to stay there for as long as Amber was close by.
He wanted to tell her that she looked beautiful.
But that would be too close to the truth. So he covered up his answer and turned it into something she would be expecting him to say.
‘I had an interesting evening. Your guest list was inspired. I suspect the birthday present swag will be excellent.’
‘Birthday presents? Oh. No, I only had a few. I asked people to make a donation to Parvita’s charity instead.’
She looked at him. Really looked at him. Her gaze moved so slowly from his feet upwards that by the time it reached his face Sam knew that his ears were flaming red.
‘Nice suit. You look positively dangerous. Was it safe to let you out on your own? I’m sorry I didn’t have much time to talk. Did you get all of the shots Saskia needs?’
‘I can usually be trusted to behave myself if the occasion demands. And yes, I think I can do something creative for a website and make the most of the venue.’
‘Really? That almost sounds professional. Then things truly have changed. And not just the suit.’
‘Oh, no compliments, please; you’ll have me blushing.’
‘I noticed you working the room with your camera. Hasn’t Saskia done a lovely job?’
‘I have been to this house so many times with my dad but I’d forgotten how stunning it is. Judging from some of the comments from your guests, I think she might be on to a winner.’
Amber hunched up her shoulders. ‘I hope so. She’s had a rough time since her aunt Margot died. This is why it’s important to me that you do a good job and help Saskia out. Elwood House is her home but it’s also her business. She needs a decent marketing and promotional campaign to get it off the ground.’
‘There are expert companies out there who could make it happen.’
‘Yes, there are. And they cost serious amounts of money. And Saskia won’t accept my help. I have plenty of colleagues and casual friends in my life. You met some of them this evening. But nobody comes close to real friends like Kate, Saskia and her aunt Margot. They made me believe that, despite everything that happened with my mother, I could make a real home in London and create something close to a normal school life for myself. And that was new.’
‘I know, I was there. Remember?’
Then she laughed out loud. ‘Oh, yes, I remember very well indeed. But I refuse to be angry with you on my birthday. Life really is too short. I have had enough of all of that. And yes, you can record that little snippet on your handy pocket tape recorder and do what you like with it.’
He patted his pockets. ‘Oh, shame. I seem to have left it at the office. Fancy that. The last time I came to your birthday party I had to climb over the garden fence. It makes a nice change to come in through the front door.’
She chuckled before answering. ‘How could I forget?’ She laughed out loud. ‘You strode into my eighteenth birthday party as though you were the guest of honour and hadn’t just climbed over the fence to avoid the security on the front entrance. And then you kidnapped me when my mother was in the salon with all of the stuffy, important guests she had invited who I had never met, and you whisked me away in your dad’s sports car. It was magical and you were the magician who made it possible. It was like some happy dream.’
She shook her head, making her chandelier earrings sparkle, and brought her knees up to her chest. ‘My mother still hasn’t forgiven you for the fact that I missed my own birthday cake, eighteen candles and all. Heath had to blow them out for me.’
‘Your mother is a remarkable lady. As far as she is concerned, I will always be the chauffeur’s son, but do you know what? I am proud of the fact that my dad used to drive limos for a living before he moved into property. I always have been. No matter what you and your family think.’
Amber inhaled sharply and tugged her hand away from